


like real people do

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Young Ben, Young Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6949639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[...] Ben remembers that from the List. </p><p>This List: Things That Hux Does Not Like.</p><p>Hux has the original copy. One of the photocopies is taped to the inside of his locker. A second duplicate— an extensively annotated one— is pinned to the soft-corked bulletin board in Ben’s room, next to his TIE fighter model and the black-and-white picture of his grandpa, in uniform.</p><p>It’s pretty long. Sometimes Ben thinks it’s so big it could hold his whole world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winemomhux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winemomhux/gifts).



Despite whatever Hux thinks, Ben Solo does, actually, try very hard not to be a problem.

 

It isn’t his fault that sometimes during Mr. Antilles’ Algebra class his foot jerks out and kicks the back of Hux’s chair. And it’s not his fault that his knee bounces up and down constantly. He can’t stop his pen from tap-tapping against the side of his desk and he doesn’t mean to hum 90’s pop songs under his breath. He doesn’t realize he’s doing any of it until it’s already done. It’s not something he can control, it’s like the time he'd hid his face in Hux’s neck in the theater during _Insidious,_ or the time he’d kissed Hux on the mouth, for helping him sneak out of detention, or.

 

Or last weekend. When he’d been too loud in his bedroom, with Hux’s hand down his pants and Hux’s mouth sucking on his ear and Hux had cussed under his breath when Ben moaned his name and said _Jesus,_ in his funny little accent, and Ben had said _our Lord and Savior_ and laughed.

 

And Hux had tightened his grip, and Ben’s voice had shot up an octave, and he had spilled thick over Hux’s fingers, messy and everywhere—

 

His foot slips out and slams into the leg of Hux’s chair again. Hux’s shoulders stiffen and his head snaps around to glare at Ben with his face all screwed up, and his eyes squinty.

 

(It’s the same face he makes before he comes.)

 

Ben is hot in his face and throat now, something vaguely firecracker-y sizzling in his chest like the white-and-red sparklers his dad lights, on the Fourth of July. The ones that you hold in your hand, and use to draw neon letters in the air that stay etched on the inside of your eyelids long after the flame has gone out. Cherry-bombs. That’s what he feels like. That’s what Hux makes him feel like.

 

He thinks Hux would laugh, if he ever said any of that to him. Hux doesn’t like the Fourth of July; Ben remembers that from the List.

 

 _This_  List:

 

Things That Hux Does Not Like.

 

Hux has the original copy. One of the photocopies is taped to the inside of his locker. A second duplicate— an extensively annotated one— is pinned to the soft-corked bulletin board in Ben’s room, next to his TIE fighter model and the black-and-white picture of his grandpa, in uniform.

 

It’s pretty long. Sometimes Ben thinks it’s so big it could hold his whole world.

 

Some Of The Things On The List

 

\- Parents

 

\- The American Education System

 

\- The Word “Bubbler”

 

\- The Name “Brendol”

 

\- American “Sweet Tea” (?!?)

 

\- Ben’s Parents

 

\- Ben’s Sexual Stamina (Correction— Lack Thereof)

 

\- Ben’s Stupid Creaky Bed

 

\- When Ben Says “Awesome Sauce”

 

\- When Ben Pretends To Know What Hux Is Thinking

 

It goes on for pages and pages and pages. And Ben is pretty sure that Independence Day is on there somewhere. The List had been Hux’s idea originally— a joke, at first, then something serious, a project he’d actually spent a whole entire school night making, drawing on Ben regularly for inspiration. It’s to keep Ben in line, mainly. Most of the time it doesn’t work. Sometimes it does.

 

There’s fifteen minutes left of class. Ben stops bouncing his knee and tears out a piece of notebook paper instead, snatching up his pen. When Mr. Antilles swivels toward the blackboard, chalk in hand, he leans forward and taps Hux on the shoulder.

 

“ _What,”_ Hux hisses.

 

Ben adds

 

\- Distractions

 

to the List, and hands him the note. He stays slouched halfway over his desk to watch the way Hux’s lips twitch out the words as he reads them.

 

_want to make-out after school_

 

Ben has drawn two boxes underneath the question. They’re marked _yes_ and _definitely._

 

Hux pushes it back to him, too quickly. He’s written, _I’m busy,_ with a period after the _y._ Like it’s non-negotiable.

 

Ben writes, _p_ _lease_

 

_No._

 

_ok but i’ll jerk you off_

 

 _No._ (Underlined.)

 

 _slowly,_ Ben adds to his last sentence, and draws a heart, even though he knows that’s _definitely_ another thing on the List.

 

 _Knock it off,_ Hux writes back.

 

Ben gnaws at his lip, staring at the back of Hux’s impassive ginger head.

 

Then he writes,

 

_i’ll let you suck my dick too cause i know you like that_

 

Mr. Antilles turns back around, talking enthusiastically about formulas; Ben slouches back in his seat and watches the tips of Hux’s ears go red as he reads what Ben has written, and re-reads what Ben’s written, curling the edges of the paper furiously between his thumb and forefinger.

 

He picks up his pen and scrawls out something. Then crosses it out, and starts writing something else, longer, and scratches that out too. Finally he makes a hasty, angry looking mark.

 

Ben gets ahold of the note again with a minute left on the classroom clock.

 

Hux has written:

 

~~ _First of all you shouldn’t be passing dirty notes if we get caught I swear to God I am going to_ ~~

 

And then:

 

~~ _That doesn’t mean fucking anything I’ve only done that to you twice so far and just because I liked it the first two times doesn’t mean I’ll like it if you let me do it agai_ ~~

 

And then:

 

The box marked _yes_ has been struck through, hard enough that he’s punched the tip of his pen through the paper. 

 

Sometimes— like right now— Ben wonders if Hux keeps a second list.

 

Like, a “Things That Hux Doesn’t Mind All That Much” list.

 

And he wonders—

 

What Might Be On A List Like That

 

\- Overpriced Sparkling Wine

 

\- Every Cat (Ever)

 

\- Thunderstorms, But Only In Summer

 

\- Some Kinds Of Music

 

\- The Mixtape Ben Gave Him That He Pretends He’s Lost

 

\- Ben’s Crooked Front Tooth

 

\- Ben’s Moles That Ben Doesn’t Like

 

\- Ben's—

The bell rings, shrilly, and the classroom explodes, immediately, into joyful post-school chaos. Hux stands and he’s already got the straps of his bag slung over his shoulder; he’s packed up, Ben realizes, which is weird, because you’re not supposed to start putting away your things until class is over and

 

\- Students Who Pack Up Early

 

is one of the first things he’d put on the List.

 

“Come on, then,” says Hux, folding his arms tight across his chest, staring at Ben impatiently. His ears are still red.

 

“Oh,” says Ben, blinking up at him, “okay.” He slides everything off his desk and into his backpack, yanking the half-broken zipper until it gives way. “Your place or mine?”

 

“Yours,” Hux says, in the nasally voice he uses when Ben is being _bloody difficult._ “Will you hurry up?” 

 

 

…

 

 

\- People Who Don’t Take Off Their Shoes At The Door

 

has always been a very important part of Hux’s List.

 

Which is why Ben has to take ten seconds to restart his brain when he watches Hux climb halfway up the white-carpeted stairs of the Organa-Solo house with his black Sperrys still very much on his feet.

 

“Ben?” calls Leia from down the hall, where NPR is fizzling out of the kitchen radio.

 

“Yeah, s’me,” says Ben, dropping his bag on the living room love-seat and wondering if Hux has a brain tumor, or something.

 

“Hi, baby,” she says, coming out with a dishtowel in her hands. “Is that Brendol with you?”

 

“It's  _Hux,”_ Ben corrects her. “And yeah, s'him.”

 

“Hello,” says Hux, kind of strangled. He’s still standing on the stairs, staring down at his Sperrys like they’ve come alive.

 

Leia is asking questions. _How was school,_ that sort of thing, _What did you learn._ Hux is white-knuckling the railing as she chatters. When he feels Ben’s gaze on him he glances up— then looks away again, fast, when their eyes meet, mortified.

 

“Ben,” says Leia. “Are you listening to me?”

 

“No,” says Ben.

 

She snaps her dishtowel at him, pursing her mouth when he squawks and ducks out of reach. “It’s a school night,” she tells them, firmly. “So, Bren— _Hux._ Dinner’s at eight, Ben needs to be in bed by ten.”

 

“Sure,” says Hux.

 

“And if you need a ride home, just say so, all right?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Oh, and—”

 

“Mom,” says Ben, embarrassed.

 

“Last thing,” promises Leia, and smiles. “Make sure you take your shoes off before you go up, okay?”

 

Hux flushes down to his neck.

 

 

...

 

 

In the safety of Ben’s bedroom— door closed, door locked— Hux sits on the edge of Ben’s mattress, and continues to look everywhere but at Ben.

 

“Hey,” says Ben, uncertainly. “Uh.”

 

Another Thing That Hux Does Not Like

 

\- Awkward Silences

 

“Sorry about my mom.”

 

“No,” says Hux, twisting his hands into Ben’s sheets. “It’s— fine.”

 

“I know you don’t like her,” starts Ben—

 

“No,” says Hux again, a little sharply, “it’s not— I don’t mind her.”

 

 _What,_ thinks Ben. “Oh. I thought—”

 

“I said don’t mind her,” snaps Hux, and then he’s finally meeting Ben’s eyes, and wrenching his arm up to fist his fingers in the collar of Ben’s shirt, and.

 

Five seconds ago,

 

\- Messy Kisses

 

had been on the List.

 

But now—

 

(There are soft, frustrated noises breaking from the back of Hux’s throat, and he’s pulling his hands through Ben’s hair.)

 

—Ben isn’t sure.

 

Hux pushes Ben back, gets to his feet. Kisses his chin. Undoes Ben’s fly.

 

“Hux,” says Ben, curling his hand around Hux’s wrist. “Sorry I wrote that. In class. If you don’t want to—”

 

“Shut up,” says Hux, and drops to his knees.

 

He’s so good at it, Ben thinks, panting. How can he be so good at it, when Ben is his first? At least, he thinks that he’s Hux’s first, Hux has never talked about anyone else, not here or overseas and Hux is— Hux is the first person, the only person, that’s ever wanted to do this to Ben. He’s the only person that Ben ever wants to do this to him.

 

Hux drags his tongue along the underside of Ben’s cock and Ben says _Oh,_ and sees stars _._ Feels Hux’s mouth, wet and hot around him, and Hux’s hair, smooth and gelled under his fingers, and more stars. Cherry-bombs, again. He hears, _you have to be quiet, Ben, fuck,_ he says, _I’m sorry I can’t,_ or he thinks he says it, he’s not sure, maybe he just thinks it. Either way it doesn’t matter because Hux goes back down on him, so far down that Ben thinks he might choke.

 

He doesn’t.

 

“I,” says Ben, his voice cracking. “Fuck, Hux, I’m gonna.”

 

Hux pulls off. He sits back on his heels, while Ben’s chest heaves, while Ben grips tightly at his dick, to keep from coming. He smirks when Ben kicks his way out of his shorts and tries to strip out of his band tee, and gets his arms stuck in the sleeves. He stops smirking when Ben drops the shirt to the floor, and tugs at Hux, who’s on his feet now, and says, “Come here.”

 

“Ben,” says Hux, curling his hand around Ben’s wrist. “You don’t have to—”

 

“Shut up,” says Ben, and pushes him toward the bed. 

 

He undoes Hux’s belt with shaky fingers, the two of them sitting on the mattress, facing each other. When he gets his hand down the front of Hux’s pants Hux makes another one of those soft sounds, and squeezes his eyes shut.

 

“Oh, god,” he says, leaning forward to press his face against Ben’s throat, his breath hot and damp. “Don’t— not too fast, I’m— I’m close. Ben.”

 

“What?” Ben says, stroking him, just once, feeling him shudder. “You’re— already?” And he doesn’t even sound mocking, just— bewildered. A little stunned. Burning up inside.

 

Hux bites into his neck, like he needs punishment anyway. “When I suck you off,” he says, licking at the bite. “You make— noises, you’re. Too loud. Ben.”

 

“Put it on the List,” says Ben, breathless. He’s got Hux’s boxers down, finally, and his hand wrapped around Hux’s dick; Hux reaches between Ben’s legs, and they start moving together, fists pumping erratically, sloppy.

 

“Ah,” says Hux, gasping a little, his hips jerking, Ben’s bed creaking underneath them. “Ben,” he says, eyes fluttering shut, Ben feels the brush of his eyelashes against his neck. “Ben.”

 

“Yeah,” says Ben, into Hux’s hair. Burning up. “I know. I know.”

 

“No you don’t,” says Hux, mouth moving against Ben’s skin, voice going thin and nasally again. “You fucking— tosser, you don’t know—”

 

“I think I’m in love with you,” says Ben.

 

“Oh, god,” says Hux, voice high and reedy.

 

“And I think you think you’re in love with me, too,” says Ben.

 

“Oh, hell," says Hux, "no way," and kisses him, messily, and the cherry-bomb goes off in Ben’s chest, and then they’re both coming.

 

And then they’re both messy.

 

And they’re still kissing.

 

For a long time, after.

 

 

…

 

 

Wedge Antilles catches Ben Solo and Brendol Hux Jr. passing notes the next day, when they should be learning Algebra.

 

He’s not like the other teachers, who make their students into victims, standing in front of the class and reading their secrets like a death sentence, aloud to the rest of their classmates. And he doesn’t read the notes himself, usually, because kids deserve to have their secrets and keep them, too.

 

But after the bell rings, and he starts to erase the white-chalk numbers littered across the blackboard, and the students begin to file out into the hallway, Wedge sees Solo take Hux’s hand in his own, and hold it, tight.

 

And when he tosses the note in the recycling, he just so happens to catch a fragment of messy scrawl.

 

Things Hux Does, Actually, Like

 

A strange assortment. Sparkling wine. Every cat (ever). Thunderstorms, but only in summer.

 

And, at the very bottom:

 

\- Ben Bail Organa Solo

 

(Against All Better Judgement)


End file.
